The Hunts
by OmNomNommingOnSouls
Summary: A little drabble about Arthur England during the witch hunts. It's not historically accurate btw! the tenses are probably messed up too knowing me, an apology in advance!


Wheezy breaths leave his mouth as he finally stops, safe here for a brief moment. The Hunts are becoming worse, spreading over Europe like a forest fire, with nothing to quench the flames.

Arthur took a few more weary breaths before slumping next to a tree. He no longer hears the rushing of footsteps behind him, running for him. He looks around in the forest…It is barren, the spirits have long since abandoned this place, too close to mankind for their liking.

He slows his breathing right down, keeping it low and unnoticeable so he is able to note his surroundings.

His land has been ravished by its people and the new ways of religion. It was never this bad before, there was the occasional execution…but now, it has degraded into unlawful slaughter. The mix of greed and unjust will has smote all those unfortunate enough to be in the path of carnage.

Arthur has only survived because of what he is. A nation, immortal to such whimsical damage that a mere man can cause…However, it doesn't make this any less painful. His people, not just those who live upon the land, but _his_ people are dying. Those who still believe in ways decreed as evil and wrong. Wrongly judged they are, yet if anyone speaks against it they too suffer a similar fate. Hangings are like a daily occurrence now…it saddens his heart to its core.

He cries softly, slowly raising his hand to block the tears.

_Why? Why do this? Stupid, stupid humans…They've done nothing yet you persecute them so…What has happened to my people…Why did this happen to __**my **__people?_

Even he is hunted now; there are those who have forgotten who and what he is. But they do know he is not a man, which is why they don't stop their efforts to bring Arthur down. His brothers too, probably are in similar circumstances…

A person who can live forever, who barely ages and who can survive must be evil was the humans' logic. Anything out of their status quo is bad, a heathen. Different isn't right, different must be purged from the world. Anyone who dares to speak against the norm must perish…The world is too full of like-minded fools. Which is why it is so terrifying. For it is those people who have the power and can move the pieces. And no-one can stop that. They continue until they die or realise what they are doing.

He continues, tears streaming down. The minority that could see the awe-inspiring sights he saw are gone. Those who respected the land they survived on and still showed thanks to the ancient beings are dead, all massacred by cruel hands with unjustified reasons.

Each day another falls prey to the wicked noose of man, and each day Arthur continues to survive. He hates it…soon he'll be the last in his entire land, once the remainder of the so-called 'witches' die, no-one can inherit their knowledge and know the truth.

Arthur pulls out a small cross around his neck. He once had faith, like the men of this time. In desperation he would pray, just hoping that somewhere, someone would listen to his woes. Now all he had believed in had diminished. No such thing as 'God' could exist, if the wicked reign and the innocent pay with their lives. Why should someone have to die for believing in something different? Isn't it supposed that the Almighty forgives all, and welcomes anyone who wishes redemption?

_No…He has abandoned us all…why ask for redemption when __**we**__deserve justice? They use His name in vain, using Him as an excuse…_

He looks to the sky.

_Heh, Your 'followers' only use You to get their own wants, how does it feel? Having Your faith besmirched by the disgusting essence of man and their sickly ways. Man will always have holes in them, wanting to be filled, but their thirst will never stop…You flawed Your own perfect creation, is not Man an image of Yourself? It seems fitting for a being who lets those in need suffer!_

He hears the trudging sound against the ground, and murmurs of 'He can't have gone too far', 'The witch is here' and then 'Your devilry ends here' as the hunters notice his presence

_So then…I'll take the next move._

He gets up to walk towards the threat. Upon being in view of the raging crowd of people he stops and just looks at them seeing all the hatred in their eyes…all the misguided devotion…such is a loss in faith.

Arthur wipes the remaining tears from his eyes and rips the small wooden cross from the string around his neck. He thinks of throwing it to the ground…but decides against it, instead he shouts to them, holding the cross up.

"He is as selfish as Man, knowing nothing of the true evils that lurk here! If He truly listens to each of His 'creations' then smite me down! Go ahead! It'll just be another meaningless loss!"

One of the men runs towards him, blade in hand. Arthur can only smile as he sees the man before him fall to the ground dead.

The others mutter amongst themselves, starting to quiver at the sight.

It is only logical for a nation to have some power over their people, those weak-minded are easy to influence. Arthur shouldn't abuse his power…but he wants these men to feel frightened, to see what evil is, to let them savour the own bittersweet taste of death, like so many of his kind have.

Killing a man out of his pure hatred and loathing isn't new…he's performed such heinous acts before, though most out of defence.

If those accused of witchcraft have bartered their being to Lucifer, he shall show them what a real act of devilry is.

Arthur takes a few steps closer, picking up the sword dropped as well, almost chuckling as some of the men step back. He knows he isn't himself, but some things must be done…And if his people can not do what is necessary, he will sully his hands to make a stand.

"Come no closer demon, we only wish to banish the evil that has possessed you. Your soul must suffer dearly but we can provide salvation and deliver you into thine Divine's arms…" A man says. He looks plain, no weapons on him, he just holds a book, no doubt what it is.

"Evil? Possession? I haven't the foggiest what you're stating, nothing has possessed me…" Arthur replies, still walking closer and closer. The crowd doing their best to stand their ground.

"Truly you are delusional my son, the Devil has worked his ways with your mind, twisting you to his will. Fear not, for your pain will come to an end."

Arthur can only laugh at this…A freakish mingling of hysterics and sadistic happiness.

"Wrong, dear Father. I require no possession to perform. I do this of my own accord" he smiles before rushing into the crowd, purposefully avoiding the holy man.

He cuts down the villagers quickly, with no remorse yet with mercy. He will not sink down to the levels of torture that they have committed themselves to. But in the moment primal instincts allow him to enjoy the cold steel caressing soft, mortal flesh. Allows him to take joy in the spilling crimson onto the muddy ground. It is easy to kill a man, they are fragile things. Like a child's toy, they break all too easily.

It only takes moments before a dozen men to be collapsed on the floor, dead or breathing final breaths. A few 'brave' ones try to fight back, but die nonetheless. At least they tried to be defiant, even in certain death. The few final surviving flee, leaving one man standing alone, the holy man.

Arthur only walks to him and chooses not to kill him. He has no need to kill a man who truly never had a killing intent.

"Pray to your Lord, worship him, appease Him for all I care…But never use 'His' name to justify Man's actions, for it is your kind's own, not that of some divine will…" Arthur mutters to the shocked priest. He can hate all he will, but Arthur will not blame man's God for their actions, for they have been provided with a free will, and it is never right to cast the blame upon anyone else, be it a fellow person or a deity.

He still has the cross in his hand. He looks at it for a moment deciding its fate.

Sighing he ties it around his wrist.

Still a part of him will remain faithful, for he hopes one day maybe people will be grateful of faith, and not abuse it. Another part of him wants Arthur to throw it to the ground…But he has done more than enough to insult those of faith today.

Tomorrow he will be running again, from his people and their words. Tomorrow will never hold anything for him, but the distant future might.


End file.
